Serpentis Proditonis
by Ladvarian
Summary: Old fic! Also, very much dead at this point. Kidnapped by Death Eaters and left in a room with her childhood enemy, Ginny Weasley's in a bit of trouble.
1. Default Chapter

**Serpentis Proditonis**

Chapter One- Missing

_She wanted to stay in the dark. In the dark she was warm and safe. There was no one and nothing but her. Out of the dark it was cold and she would be scared, she knew this. Out side the wind was cold and harsh._

_The bag rubbed her skin and her head ached. Something wet ran down her neck. She knew something was wrong but she didn't want to confront it. To confront it would mean discomfort and fear. Better by far to stay safe in the dark._

_Outside her mind her body jolted and shuddered. Her limbs were thrown wide and waves of pain washed through her body. Slowly the dark was infected with consciousness and awareness invaded her body._

Harry cursed. He was late for work, the traffic in wizarding London was bloody awful and his girlfriend hadn't owled him back. Not a good start to the day. Last night hadn't been much better- Ginny had missed dinner with him, which really wasn't like her. She always made room for him and had never missed a date- until last night.

It wasn't that he was worried. He was too busy for that. He was just… annoyed. Yes. She'd owled him from the library where she worked to tell him she'd definitely be able to make it, as soon as she'd finished cataloguing the latest discovery of ancient Egyptian curse tablets they'd received.

He sighed and rubbed his eyes. He was tired and annoyed. His job as an auror was demanding and his girlfriend was missing. He yawned and turned right, walking up the front stairs of the Ministry of Magic. He nodded to the golden wizard that presided over the foyer as he walked past and received a snort and a jet of water from the wizards partner- an equally golden witch- in return, accompanied by the high pitched giggle of the mermaid at his feet.

The halls were deserted and his secretary, Marlene, was missing from her usual post upon the edge of his desk. He coughed and waited. No response. He removed his cloak himself and threw it over a couch in the corner of his office before throwing himself down on his swivel chair, his heels coming to rest on the top of his desk. He closed his eyes and the door opened.

"Harry!"

He turned at the sound of Marlene's voice, unusually high-pitched. "Marlene, what's going on? Where have you-"

"Oh Harry, The Chief told me to tell you that- that Ginny… She's missing Harry!" She stood in the doorway ringing her hands. "You don't think-"

Harry laughed. "Marlene, Ginny's not missing. She just failed to turn up to dinner. I'm sure it's nothing to be worried about. Likely she'll turn up sooner or later and-"

"But Harry, you don't understand. There was a message. They've kidnapped her! The Chief said it was Death Eaters and you'd better get there soon because it's really really strange and no one knows what to do and no one wants to tell Molly because they're terrified and," Marlene paused for breath. "I can't remember what else. So. Go!"

Harry stared. Death Eaters? Why on earth would Death Eaters want _Ginny? _She wasn't anyone special; in fact, it could be argued that she really wasn't anyone at all. Death Eaters came after him, Harry, not Ginny. He closed his mouth and stood, heading for the door. _Stupid Hoodlums causing trouble. _

Likely it was someone wanting a share of the Potter fortune. Or perhaps Ginny was after attention. Either way, it wouldn't be Death Eaters. By the time he'd reached the chiefs office he'd already made up his mind. They'd wait until Ginny got bored, or the kidnappers realised they were getting nothing. A plan, and all he needed. He had enough work already.

Ginny shivered and opened her eyes. Light from a lamp in the corner revealed the room's derelict nature- peeling paint, rotting cupboards and broken floorboards. She was lying on an old bed with a musty blanket and lumpy pillow. Her head ached and she could feel dry blood on her scalp and neck. Her arms and legs still felt cramped and sore. She groaned and struggled to sit up, eventually succeeding in raising her upper body from the bed, resting on her elbows. There was a chair in the corner, thrown into shadow by the flickering lamplight. Ginny squinted and stared at it, she could almost see someone sitting there. She opened her mouth and croaked. Her tongue and lips were dry and cracked. She paused and licked her lips before trying again.

"Hello?" Still hoarse, but understandable.

Something shifted in the shadows and for a moment she could see pale blonde hair. There was a shhhsing sound as a cloak was re-arranged and eventually someone spoke.

"Hello."

Amused and male, and perhaps mildly surprised. There was silence for a while, and Ginny spoke again. "Where am I, exactly?"

"Ah, now that would be telling, wouldn't it?" Teasing, baiting. Then the voice changed to something darker, more serious. "Besides, Weasley, you don't really need to know."

Ginny thought for a moment, hesitating. "Why don't I need to know?"

The male laughed. A silvery, fragile laugh. Almost fake. "Because they said so. Because I said so. Because, Weasley, you won't be going anywhere."

"But that doesn't really tell me-"

"You don't _need_ to know Weasley because, if I'm reading Voldemort right, you're not going to be alive long enough to appreciate the knowledge."

The voice had taken on a desperate edge, growing louder, impatient.

"And if you're reading him wrong?" Her own voice was quiet, a challenge.

"You still don't need to know."

The chair creaked and the male glided into the light. Ginny's breath hitched. "Malfoy…" A breathy whisper barely heard.

He smiled, bittersweet. "You still don't need to know, because whatever's left of you when he's finished won't be able to appreciate the knowledge." One pale hand reached out and he ran a finger along her jaw, the nail coming to rest beneath her chin. She stared at him. His pale face, seemingly floating in the shadows of the lamp and his cloak. Bloodless lips and pale, haunted eyes.

He left, and she wept.


	2. Of Letters and Escapes

**Disclaimer:** Well, seeing as how I missed it the first chapter… cringes  
I Don't own Harry Potter, nor do I own Ginny or Ron or Hermione or anyone else who decides to appear in this delightful little story of mine….  
Although, I would like to own Draco. Very very much. Oh, and I'm not making any money out of this, sad though that may be. 

**Serpentis Proditonis**  
Chapter 2

"Oh, Merlin, it can't be," Harry sighed, resting his head in his hands. Opposite him sat his superior, Marcel Neggins, the Chief Auror. A piece of parchment rested on the table between them, a few lines written in an elegant hand followed by a strange stamp. Voldemorts own sign- and it was glowing.

"Harry, I realise how difficult this must be, but we have got to take into account how authentic this is. The details, the name, the mark…

"The Dark Lords name is not common knowledge, Miss Weasleys involvement with Him in her third year was hardly broadcast in its entirety, and the Dark Mark," he sighed. "There are few wizards that do not follow Him who would dare to conjure that, let alone imprint it onto a letter meant for the ministry. We have to treat this as a genuine threat, Harry."

"I realise that, sir. But it's so, so obscene. Why go after Ginny? Why tell us and not make any demands? I don't understand. If He's going to-" Harry paused and swallowed. "If he's going to kill her, why tell us? In the past he's just, well, done it. And if he isn't, why aren't there any demands, any threats?"

Marcel Neggins sighed and re-folded the parchment, slipping it into a plain white envelope. "I don't know, Harry. You-Know-Who's your area of expertise, and Ginny was, I mean, is your girlfriend. See if you can figure anything out from this, and I'll see you tomorrow. We'll figure out what to do then." He handed the envelope across the table. "And Harry? No one's told the Weasleys yet…"

"I'll do it, sir. Goodbye."

It wasn't until he'd left the building and wandered along a few barely noticed streets that Harry opened the letter and re-read the parchment within.

_Mr. Potter,_

_Ginny Weasley is visiting an old friend from school- I'm sure you'll remember Tom? Ever since her third year he's been… pining… for a reunion, and Nagini's missed her playmate._

_Farewell._

And there, below the script, a Skull adorned with serpents. The Dark Lords mark.

----

She woke up and he was in the room again, standing at the end of the bed and staring at the wall opposite her. So still and cold, a statue guarding. But this one wasn't guarding her. It was keeping her for its master. She shivered.

"How long was I asleep?"

He turned and spoke. "Who knows, Weasley. Time means little, here. A day, a month, a year. Who knows."

She sat up, the pain she had felt earlier only lingering in aching muscles and a slight headache, and watched as he conjured another chair and lamp with his wand. She grinned. The prat had brought his wand! All she had to do was get it, and then-

"Happy, Weasley? I wouldn't have thought you were that eager to see Him after the chamber." He paused, as if in thought. "Then again, I suppose the Chamber could be exactly why you're so looking forward to this little reunion."

She snarled. "Shut up, ferret. I was simply imagining a ball of white fur bouncing off the walls."

"So sad, the little Weasley doesn't even have an original taunt."

"Well, yours was hardly anything to be proud of."

"Oh? But surely all those noble Gryffindors didn't think such naughty things!"

She opened her mouth to reply and huffed. "Go away, Malfoy."

"No, Weasley. I'm not allowed."

"Oh? A Malfoy left to be a Weasleys keeper? I'm surprised you haven't killed yourself yet. Imagine the dishonour, Malfoy. Taking orders and delegated babysitting duty."

He snarled and sat down. "At least you've finally accepted-"

He was cut off as she launched herself at him from the bed. Taken by surprise, he raised his hands and leant back, the chair tipping over as her weight was added to pile.

"Weasley, what the Hell do you think you're doing?" It was muffled, but understandable. Ginny grabbed something long and thin from his sleeve and yanked, smiling victoriously. "I'm getting this Malfoy. Now shut up and stay there." She disentangled herself from chair and limbs, wand held in front of her. A sigh was her only reaction as Draco closed his eyes and lay back on the floor.

"Now, how do I get out of here?" She demanded, eyes bright.

"You open the door and walk, I'd imagine."

"I mean how do I get-"

"I know what you mean. And I can't answer that."

"You mean you won't answer that," she snarled. "Tell me now, Malfoy, or by Circe I swear I'll make you wish you'd never been born."

"An empty threat, and one that's already been fulfilled, I can assure you. As for how to get out of here, I can't tell you. Why, you ask? Because you _can't _get out of here."

"You're lying. You know how to get out of… wherever we are. It has a front door, doesn't it?"

"Indeed. But after the door, Weasley, is time." He paused. "Perhaps you'd like to know that someone's coming. Down the hall."

"Now?"

"Yes Weasley, Now." He smirked, obviously delighted at her lack of success.

The knock at the door wasn't long in coming, and Ginny cursed. She looked around frantically and, finding nothing terribly inspiring, turned back to Draco.

"Help me."

"Yeah, sure. I mean, why not? I'm only your enemy, really."

"Oh for the love of anything!" She pointed the wand at her throat. "I really hope this works. Audeo Draco!"

A voice came from beyond the wall.

"Draco? That you?" The voice was familiar, and she turned to Draco, still sprawled on the floor. He rolled his eyes and mouthed "Crabbe."

Ginny nodded.

"Um, yes." She grinned, satisfied. Her voice was an almost perfect imitation of Malfoy's. "What do you want?" She added, a hint of impatience in her, well, Malfoy's voice.

"I got the food. For the Weasel."  
"Just… leave it by the door."

"But-"

"Leave it by the door!"

"Okay, okay." There was shuffling and a dull thump as something was put on the floor, accompanied by mumbled grumbling. Footsteps and muffled laughter drifted down the hall.

Ginny crept over to the door and twisted the handle slowly. She heard a click and pulled. The door wouldn't budge. Trying again, she pushed, pulled and jiggled. Still, the door remained closed.

"What is wrong with it!" She kicked the wall and pouted. Then frowned. There was something strange about the silence. "Malfoy? Hey, Malfoy!" She walked back over to him. "Hello? Malfoy?"

"Go away Weasley," he muttered and rolled over onto his side, curling into a foetal position. He sighed softly and murmured. Ginny's frown became puzzled. Shuffling closer, with the wand tucked safely in her back pocket, she poked him in the shoulder. He squirmed and huffed before returning to his previous position. She reached out again and shook his shoulder. "What's wrong? Did you hit your head or something?"

She leant back and bit her lip. Finally growing impatient she sighed and leant over his shoulder. "Look, Malfoy, I know you're not asleep so would you please just stop pretending and tell me how to get out of here?"

He moved quickly. Before she thought to move away his arm was around her waist and she was being pulled over his hip and onto the ground. She landed beside him and gave an undignified yelp.

"What are doing?!" She struggled to sit up but his arms encircled her and brought her down next to him.

"I'm getting my wand back. Sit still so I can reach it… or do you want my hands all over your backside?"

Ginny remembered to breathe. "This isn't fair."

"There's no such thing as 'fair', Weasley," He said as he withdrew his wand. "Now. It's your turn sit down and shut up, while I go and get your food. Though why I should I don't know."

He walked over to the door as she sat against the wall, eyes closed and frowning. Getting out of here was obviously going to be a lot harder than she'd thought it'd be.

She opened her eyes just as the door was closed and Malfoy carried a tray over to her.

"How come the door worked for you?"

He sighed. "Because I'm a Death Eater, I'm pure evil and they're not trying to keep me in here. You're a prisoner Weasley. Generally the doors are locked."

Ginny blushed. "Oh."

"Here. Eat and sleep, He'll want to see you soon."

Ginny nodded, she didn't need to ask who 'He' was. Tom. It had been six years, but her memories of the Chamber were still vivid and fresh.

She sighed. Suddenly she wasn't hungry.


	3. Congressus

**Congressus**

**Disclaimer:** Dude, I own nothing and make nothing, Have pity and don't sue.

**Thanks to: **Eve Granger and Tweeny-weeny, for reviewing. Many cookies and much love.

**Author's Notes:** Okay. People have mentioned Harry's a little OOC. I'm basically working of the Harry seen in the early chapters of OotP- the whining, annoying, self-important Harry. He's going to get a little nicer here though, and hopefully he'll continue to improve.

Eventually this will be D/G.

He stared, lost in thought, in memories. Ginny hiding behind the stairs, blushing. Ginny grinning shyly from behind Ron. Ginny flying chaser for Gryffindor. Ginny in his arms, smiling. Ginny on the floor of the chamber, dying. Ginny.

The parchment was rough in his hands- heavy. A physical manifestation of all the fears they faced each day, of the danger they had known but never quite comprehended. He wandered unseeing through wizarding London streets and alleys and gateways, lost in misery and despair. He wasn't even sure why, but he knew one thing. Whether Ginny survived or not, he'd lost her. Perhaps forever. He hadn't listened, hadn't noticed, and had dismissed her thoughts and dreams and life as less important than his own. He'd taken her worship for granted, assumed it would always be there because it had always been there. He'd never thought that once he'd accepted it he'd have to make an effort because he hadn't had to before. Of course, it probably wouldn't have mattered to her. At first she'd have been ecstatic just because he'd noticed her. But eventually she'd have realized.

He sighed and looked up. He was being stupid, he knew. Self-pitying and depressing. And he still had to tell her family. It was later into the evening now- they'd all be at home, at least Molly and Arthur would be. You could never tell with their sons.  
He grimaced and apparated with a slight pop.

The lounge was in a state of what could only be called a surreal kind of chaos. Molly sat, feverishly knitting, tears dampening the wool as it knotted and snagged and unraveled. Arthur stared, his arm around his wife, pale. George was restraining Fred, both arms wrapped tightly around his twin. Harry couldn't tell if it was to stop Fred from killing him, or if George just needed to strangle someone- and Fred was the closest human. Ron, though. He sat there, crying silently, so still. He was never still- always moving, tapping, and fidgeting. His mouth was slack and his eyes wide. Only Bill and Charlie were absent- both working. But Harry knew they'd be home soon. He sat on the lounge, parchment on the coffee table, looking so small, insignificant, terrible. But at least Harry was still alive. No one had tried to curse him yet, with the possible exception of Fred. He hung his head.  
"The ministry will- will do everything they can, I'm sure. And-"  
Mr Weasley looked up and interrupted him.  
"What about you, Harry? What are you going to do?"  
"Me? Well, I-I mean," Harry struggled with his answer. He knew it should be simple. He knew what he should do- what he should have started doing the moment Ginny was missing. But he hadn't. He hung his head again and continued in a whisper. "I'll look for her. I will." Again he looked up, eyes fever bright. "I'll look for her."  
Mr. Weasley nodded, slowly, as if he were… disappointed, but relieved. Molly began to sob, and he gently took her by the elbow and led her upstairs. George had his brother under control, and both of them were leaning against the wall, red eyed and pale, but calmer. They stared at him- identical, sorrowful stares. Fred turned abruptly and left the room, almost running up the stairs. Only George and Ron were left.  
"Ron, George, I-"  
Ron stood and began to walk towards him, each step propelled by words spat from his mouth as if they left a foul taste. "You were supposed to look after her. Protect her. But you just ignored her. It took you **two days** to take this seriously. Two days to tell us." He stopped, his 6"5' frame towering over the couch. Harry stared, openmouthed.  
"Ron, I didn't think that-"  
"Save it, Harry," and with that he stalked from the room.  
Harry turned to George, eyes pleading, beseeching.  
"George-"  
He looked away before answering. "You couldn't even answer, Harry. Dad asked you-" He raised his eyes. "Dad asked you what you'd do. He gave you a chance to make what you did better. But you couldn't even answer. Don't find her, Harry. Bring. Her. Back."  
"What if I can't- I can't find her?"  
George just stared, and left.

The floor was cold and hard on her skin. Her knees and breasts were pressed hard on the ground, and her neck ached. But she couldn't move. If she moved, they'd notice her again, and then, and then something bad would happen. She wasn't sure what, but she knew it would be bad and painful and she'd had enough of pain.

They had come for her not long after Malfoy had left. She couldn't tell who they were because they all wore the masks and robes of a Death Eater. There had been five of them. Two had grabbed her arms, one had led and the other two had followed. All had their wands out, gripped tightly, and in the hand furthest from her. She hadn't fought them. She'd known it wouldn't do her nay good- likely it would just make the whole process more painful.

She was regretting that decision. After what they'd done, a little extra pain wouldn't have mattered.

He'd been sitting in a chair by an unlit fireplace. The room was dark; the only source of light was the glow coming from the wand of the Death Eater who had led her there. Other Death Eaters stood around the room in a loose circle, silent and imposing in their uniform malevolence. The ashes in the fireplace had shifted; some had risen into the air- lifted by a wind that was neither real nor imaginary. Everything was still- no robes moved, no floorboards creaked, no man breathed. And she blinked. Suddenly everything seemed to rush back to her. The ashes fell in rewind and the chair in front of her slowly turned around.  
She gasped involuntarily. His hair was thick and black, immaculately parted and gleaming in the pale light. His face was pale but fresh and even sitting down she could see the muscled legs and broad shoulders. He looked like he was seventeen again; only his eyes belied the image so well crafted. Blue again, but deep and cruel, and an iris rimmed with blood red. No mere mortals eyes. Eyes of someone long since dead, but who refused to acknowledge his passing. He had smiled, cold and cruel, and risen from his chair.  
"My dear Ginevra," he crooned, coming ever closer, hand outstretched. "Ginny. I have missed you so." His fingers brushed along her jaw and down her neck, caressing her throat. "Have you missed me also?"  
She swallowed and opened her mouth to answer, "One does not miss a Nightmare," but the words did not come. She began to choke, to struggle for air, to shudder and gulp and retch.  
"Ginny, Ginny. Come child. Did you not miss me? You must surely know the answer. Tell me the truth, child. Lies are not heard in my presence." With this last he smirked, as if the idea amused him.  
She hung her head and whispered, "Yes."  
He smiled, triumphant.  
"Then you must come and sit by my feet. We have much to… do."  
The words escaped her mouth before she had time to think.  
"I will never-"  
The choking began again, as the spell, or whatever it was picked up on her intention. But the act of defiance cleared her head, and she saw what had happened. He would hear truth as he wished her to give it, and as she gave it, it would become truth for her. A coercion spell, or something like it. With this knowledge came an idea of how to combat it, but before she could grasp it in her mind Voldemort's hand connected with the side of her head. She looked up, dazed, into his now furious eyes.  
"You will not defy me!" The scream was distant, behind the ringing in he ears. "You will submit!"

And the first cruciatus hit her. It was not the last.

By the time they had finished with her, she was lying limp on the floor- the only thing saving her from unconsciousness was the knowledge that surely more pain would come soon. When, she never knew. Only that it would come. Cruciatus or other, it would come. They had each yelled it, every last one of the hooded, robed figures that surrounded the room. And she had watched, detached. It was as though she had left her body and was observing from somewhere else, As if she were simply viewing something that had happened long, long ago. But at the same time, she had known she was in her body, sobbing, screaming and almost dying.  
But now, now they were done. They talked talked talked in her ears and droned on like bees. She couldn't move because she was too tired and in too much pain. But they still talked and ignored her, and she stayed still until the talk faded and the room faded and even the pain faded, but only a little bit.


	4. Chapter 4

_**Discliamer:** _

_Alas, alack, for I do not_

_Own anything, but for the plot._

_Add to this my lack of skill_

_With rhyme and certainly you will_

_Not sue, or kill or even maim_

_For from this I derive no fame._

_o.O_

**Cognito**

It was strange, she thought, that one could experience such pain yet bear no marks from it. Sometimes, in the dark, she found herself thinking that perhaps it was all a dream- perhaps she had made it up. Imagined the pain and the cold and the voices. Other times, the memory felt so real that every part of her sang with a pain that was horrifyingly sweet because it reminded her that she was still alive, and that she hadn't imagined anything.

She began to think she could see her hand if she held it in front of her face for long enough. If she sat, still and quiet, with her arm outstretched and fingers clenched, an outline would form in the myriad of shades that formed the total darkness in which she lived and she could see her hand. Slender fingers pale, nails growing longer than her mother would have allowed, faint creases holding the secret to her future.

Funny. The fortune tellers had never told of this. Of utter darkness and loneliness. Of being forgotten.

She remembered how she'd feared it- being forgotten. Being left behind. How she'd have clung to anything that promised a future worth remembering, how she'd latched onto the first available story and fallen in love. Back when she'd had a name- back when she'd remembered it and known what the sun was.

Somewhere, she knew the darkness wouldn't last forever- that the light would come, and with it reality and a more immediate fear. She longed for that day, and dreaded it.

Sometimes she slept, other times she didn't. Most times she wasn't sure.

------

The ministry didn't know what to do, and neither did Harry. Voldemort hadn't been active in so long, they'd dared to hope he'd disappeared, and soon hope had turned to forgetfulness. Now, though, one of their own was missing, and they had nothing to go on. They'd tried to trace the letter, and the magic that had created it. They'd found nothing- they hadn't expected anything else. The Weasley boys had already attempted to storm the ministry, and to be honest, most of the employees were sure they'd succeed eventually, and none of them wanted to be there when they did. Temper, fists, magic and a reputation combined to create a formidable force.

But that gave no one any answers, and they knew they were running out of time. If Voldemort had kidnapped the girlfriend of The Boy Who Lived, he must be more powerful than they'd dreamed.

Harry sat at his desk, head in hands, quill lying forlorn on the desk by his elbow. The letter was untraceable and indestructible. He reread it. Tom. Nagini. Ginny.

_Tom_. Not Voldemort, but Tom. A name that was less majestic, more ordinary. Older… or, younger. He closed his eyes and remembered the Tom he had known- a young man, beautiful, intelligent, confident and powerful even then. What did it mean, using Tom once more? Voldemort had been a parasite, a burden. Helpless, bodiless and weak. Tom had been young, strong and powerful.

Harry's eyes widened. That, then. Voldemort was gone, and Tom had returned. He must have succeeded in finding a new body- or even, recreating his old one. He'd be seventeen again. Ginny though- Ginny was twenty. Older than the Dark Lord by three years.

_Missed his old playmate…_

Ginny was no longer a girl, to be a playmate. Harry groaned. It was too confusing, too cryptic. If Ginny were there, she'd figure it out. She was good with riddles, with puzzles. Piecing things together on only a few clues she did better than anyone he knew- even Hermione. He stood, parchment in hand. He couldn't take the letter to Ginny, but he could take it to Hermione. He just hoped Ron wasn't with her- they hadn't spoken since he'd told the Weasleys about the kidnapping, and he wasn't sure Ron was ready to see him.

-----

Hermione lived alone, renting a flat a walk away from the ministry where she managed to write and work without Harry ever understanding what she actually did. He knocked on the door, tapping his foot on the wooden floor of the corridor, waiting. He could hear her inside, walking towards him. The handle twisted, the light glinting of the bronze in a dull, apathetic manner. Brown eyes peered at him from beneath a veritable bush of hair that obscured the dark circles beneath her lashes.

"Harry?" She questioned.

"'Lo, Mione." He swallowed, throat suddenly dry. "Have you heard about… about Ginny?"

Hermione nodded. "Yeah. Ron was here earlier." She stood back and opened the door. "Come inside."

Harry smiled gratefully and walked past her into the lounge room where he stood awkwardly, parchment gripped in his fingers. He was suddenly afraid to hand it over, as if by relinquishing his hold on it, he'd be letting go of Ginny herself. Hermione entered behind him and sat on one of the chairs, feet tucked beneath her.

"Sit down?"

Harry shook his head. "I just- just wanted to ask you to have a look at something. A letter. We got it when Ginny disappeared, and we're not sure what to make of it. Thought you could help."

Hermione stared at him before standing and walking over, hand outstretched. "Well then. What took you so long to ask?" She gripped the edged and pulled it firmly from his hands, smiling. "Don' worry, Harry. I'll tell you everything there is to know from it soon enough."

Harry nodded and relinquished his hold on the parchment. "Thanks, Mione."

She nodded, already staring at the letter and pushed him towards the door.

"Go home and sleep, Harry. Come back tomorrow and we'll talk about this, and then we'll go and find her."

He allowed himself to be propelled towards the door, and stood- nothing left to do but follow Hermione's instructions. He went home, tired, and fell onto his bed fully clothed.

-------

**Thank you to**: Eve Granger, dramaqueen109, Princess JB and Mysterious Grey, to whom I send many cyber brownies for their reviews.


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